Kitabı oku: «What Sarah Saw», sayfa 3

THREE

The red numbers on the digital clock taunted Jocelyn. 12:15. Ugh!

She rolled over and pounded her frustration into her pillow. The gesture did nothing to alleviate her sleeplessness. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Sam’s face. She wasn’t ready for him to be back in her life, however briefly, and she certainly didn’t want to work a kidnapping case with him, even if the victim wasn’t a child.

Releasing a deep breath, she turned and stared at the ceiling. In the darkness shadows danced across it. She wanted—peace.

The phone ringing blasted the quiet. She jerked to a sitting position while fumbling for the receiver on her bedside table.

“Hello.”

“Jocelyn. I have evidence that it might definitely have been the red hair on the doll that freaked Sarah out,” Sam said without preamble.

“Hello, to you, too—but what evidence?” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood.

“I’m at the station right now and staring at a plastic bag with several strands of red hair in it. They were processed at Earl’s crime scene.”

“Is there any other hair?”

“There’s some that looks like it might be Earl’s and some that are probably Leah’s. Do you know if many people go into his office?” Excitement, the kind she’d heard before when Sam felt he was on the right track, entered his voice.

“I don’t think he used it much at all. Leah would laugh about how she would clean it every Monday night even though there was hardly anything but dust.”

“Monday, and Earl died on Tuesday, so the office was pretty clean.”

“If Leah followed her usual schedule, probably. I got the feeling Earl liked a tidy place from a few things Leah said to me.”

“Like what?”

“One Saturday we’d planned to do some Christmas shopping in New Orleans. She ended up not going because it was her day to clean the apartment and Earl didn’t want her to go before it was done.” Jocelyn’s throat ached at the thought of the failed outing.

“I’m not liking the picture developing of this man. It doesn’t sound like Leah and Earl had the world’s greatest marriage.”

She didn’t like the image forming in her mind, either. Why hadn’t she suspected something might have been wrong—very wrong? Because I was running away from my own problems, and I allowed my friend to dismiss any of my concerns.

“They fought. All married couples do.” Jocelyn squeezed her hand tighter about the phone, another memory intruding. Pressing her lips together, she kept silent about a fight the couple had the weekend before Earl died. Her friend had told Jocelyn about it only because she’d caught Leah crying in the kitchen when she’d brought Sarah back after watching her a few hours.

“You know this could be a reason Leah was involved in Earl’s death.”

His softening tone did nothing to lessen the effects of his statement. What’s wrong with me, Lord? Why can’t I help people anymore? That’s all I ever wanted to do. If I had been there more for Leah, maybe—

“Jocelyn, I’m still gonna look into every possibility and that includes the red hair clue. We need to know what Sarah saw.”

“That may never happen.”

“I have a plan that might help us find out.”

Later that day Jocelyn pushed open the door to a room in her office suite. “Sarah, you can play with anything inside here. It’s for the children who come to see me.”

The child’s eyes grew round as though she’d been told she could eat any sweet in the candy store. She raced into the playroom, making a beeline for the miniature kitchen with a play refrigerator, counter, sink and stove. Most of what was in the room was left over from her practice in New Orleans. So far she hadn’t counseled that many children in Loomis.

Sitting cross-legged on the tile floor, Jocelyn watched the little girl explore all the drawers and cabinets in the play kitchen. Sarah found the baby, mommy and daddy dolls in the corner and scooped them up, moving to a make-believe bedroom with a doll crib.

Exhaustion plagued Jocelyn. She might have slept an hour last night, especially after the call from Sam. Most of the time she’d paced her bedroom or stared up at the ceiling in the dark while trying in vain to relax enough to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

While Jocelyn stifled a yawn, Sarah carried the baby doll over to the crib, laid it down, covered it with a blanket, then picked up the mommy and daddy. The child tiptoed away from the crib with the others and plopped down on the tile in the kitchen area again.

Suddenly Sarah took the daddy doll and knocked the mommy doll down, then dropped both of them and curled up into a ball on the floor.

Jocelyn waited to see if Sarah would do anything else. The little girl stuck her thumb in her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed as though she were taking a nap.

“Sarah, are you going to sleep?”

The child bolted up, grabbed the baby doll from the crib and clutched it to her chest. “I don’t wanna play.”

“Why not?”

Sarah’s head sagged forward. “Mommy and Daddy mad.”

“Sometimes grown-ups fight with each other.”

The girl looked straight at her, her bottom lip quivering. “Mommy and Daddy mad.” Again the thumb went into the child’s mouth.

Jocelyn moved to Sarah and smoothed her blond hair from her face. “When?”

The girl began rocking. “They yelled. Loud.” She scrambled into Jocelyn’s lap and laid her head against her shoulder.

“You’re okay, Sarah. You’re safe here.” Jocelyn peered toward the two-way mirror where the child’s uncle and Sam were listening and gave a slight nod.

A few seconds later, Clint entered the playroom with a forced smile. “Honey, are you ready to leave? I finished what I needed to do. We can go home now.”

Sarah lifted her head, saw her uncle and leaped from Jocelyn’s lap, flying into Clint’s arms.

“Thanks for watching her for me.” He hugged the little girl to him.

Having decided it would be best if they pretended that Jocelyn was babysitting Sarah as she had done in the past occasionally, Jocelyn approached the child and stroked her arm. “Sarah, I enjoyed playing with you. Clint, anytime you need me to look after her, I will.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, and made his way toward the front of her office.

As planned, Sam now sat in the waiting area with a female agent, Evelyn Nelson, who was wearing a medium-length red wig.

Clint paused in front of Sam and Evelyn and asked, “How’s the investigation going?”

Sarah twisted around to see whom her uncle was talking to. When her gaze lit upon Evelyn, Sarah blanched. Her eyes saucer round, she buried herself against Clint as though she could hide in plain sight. “I wanna go home.”

Her half scream, half cry shook Jocelyn’s composure. The girl’s response to seeing Evelyn confirmed Sam’s suspicion that the child had witnessed something traumatic, and it was connected to someone with red hair. The important question now was exactly what did she see—and was it tied to her father’s death?

Jocelyn touched Sarah’s back. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t wanna be here,” the child mumbled against her uncle’s shoulder.

“Sam, I need to go to the sheriff’s.” Evelyn rose and quickly headed toward the front door.

Her thumb in her mouth, Sarah turned to watch her leave. After the female agent slipped out of the office, the little girl hid her face against her uncle’s shoulder.

Clint patted his niece’s back, his voice soft and calm. “We’re going home now.” He started for the entrance.

“Clint, I’ll call you later, and if you need me for anything, don’t hesitate to get in touch.” Jocelyn wanted to talk with Sam to see what he thought or if he had any theories concerning Sarah’s reaction. But she would follow up with Clint after he took his niece home.

The second the door shut, Jocelyn rounded on Sam, who’d come to his feet. “Now we do it my way. If I have to take it slow and easy, then we’ll take it slow and easy.”

“We need to know what Sarah saw. Her father was murdered. The evidence, what little they collected, doesn’t point to a suicide unless that’s all you want to see.”

“Like Sheriff Reed? It certainly didn’t take him long to declare it a suicide.”

Sam frowned. “Earl was most likely murdered. Sarah’s mother is missing. Maybe she went into hiding. If not, Leah’s life may be in jeopardy.”

“Leah didn’t kill Earl.”

“Something happened. She was upset when she left you that message. The time on it suggests she called not long after she left Sarah with her brother.”

“I wish I had gotten it and been able to respond, then maybe she wouldn’t have gone missing.” There. She said it out loud. But it did nothing to ease her feeling of guilt for failing her friend. Trembling, Jocelyn hugged her arms to her and tried to rub some warmth back into them.

“Everything goes back to Earl’s death. I need to know more than red hair and that Leah and her husband were fighting. What were they fighting about? Is it only women with red hair or anyone with it that frightens Sarah? The couple of strands were medium-length. They could belong to a man who wears his hair a little longer or a woman.”

Jocelyn held up her hand. “Stop right there. I agreed to this little experiment this morning because Clint did, but I draw the line there. I’ll continue to see what I can get from Sarah, but my first priority will be her and her well-being. Leah would insist on that even if her life were being threatened.”

“Fine, but getting her mother home safely is the best thing for Sarah.”

His statement made sense, but she wasn’t going to confirm that. Sarah wouldn’t be all right until her mother came home.

“Jocelyn…” He paused for a few seconds as if he were finally coming to a decision. “I’d like you to go with me to interview the people with red hair who were connected to Earl and Leah.”

“Why?” That meant spending even more time with Sam, which wouldn’t be easy.

“You know them better than I do, and you’re very perceptive.”

She had her doubts on that score. With her patients, maybe—but in real life, her track record wasn’t so good. Not with Sam at least.

“We always made a good team.” Sam’s statement struck her as ironic.

They had worked well until that last case when everything fell apart. The one person she’d needed to read was Sam, and she had failed miserably in that department. She shrugged resignedly. She’d have to help Sam in order to help Leah. “I can’t until after lunch. I have another appointment in a few minutes.”

“Good. It gives me time to go over each person’s background. I’ll be back here at two to pick you up. Okay?”

“I’ll be ready.” Still chilled, she pulled her plum-colored sweater tighter about her.

After Sam left, Jocelyn sank onto the love seat where he’d been sitting only moments before, his lingering presence conveyed to her in the warmth of the cushion. In less than a week her peaceful existence had shattered. Her past had walked right in to her present, casting her back into the memories of her time in New Orleans. The cold embedded even deeper into her bones. Teeth chattering, Jocelyn was afraid she would never be rid of the feeling of being lost.

A brisk January wind cut through Jocelyn as she hurried into Paul Fayard’s law office. Sam came in right behind her and immediately crossed the reception area to the secretary’s desk, slipping his wallet out to show Angelina Loring his FBI badge.

“Miss Loring, may I have a word with you?” Sam’s professional tone and bearing left no doubt that it really wasn’t a question.

Angelina’s blue eyes flared, then instantly a smile tilted her pouty lips upward. “I heard the FBI was in town looking into Leah’s vanishing act. My goodness, she has everyone hopping around here like she didn’t run off.”

“Why do you say she ran off?” Sam took out his pad and pen.

“Why? Because her husband just killed himself and there were some in this town that probably celebrated that.”

“Who would celebrate Earl’s death?” Sam positioned himself several feet from Jocelyn, forcing Angelina to turn in her chair slightly to look at him.

This gave Jocelyn a better opportunity to assess the secretary’s answers without the young woman knowing. Striking, with flawless features of alabaster, Angelina wore clingy, low-cut dresses that emphasized her curves. When Jocelyn had first come in to see Paul about a legal question last summer, she’d been surprised that the distinguished attorney, one of the best in the area, had hired Angelina as his secretary. However, it hadn’t taken Jocelyn long to see the effect the woman had on men, even her boss.

Angelina slanted closer to Sam, who kept his gaze trained on her face. “Lenore Pershing for one. Earl used to work for the Pershing family until some money went missing. Right after that Earl was fired.”

“Charges were brought against Earl for stealing?” Sam slid a questioning glance at Jocelyn, who gave a slight shrug.

“No. They probably didn’t have any proof.” Angelina moved in even closer and lowered her voice. “There were also some shady characters in and out of that pawnshop. Rumor had it Earl was in debt. Leah probably left to avoid having to pay off his debts. I would.”

Jocelyn dug her fingernails into her palms. She wanted to deny the woman’s words, but she’d heard the same gossip about Earl. Leah had been silent about her husband, but lately Leah had seemed stressed and exhausted from worry. Jocelyn had thought it was the money issue, but now that she was starting to put the past few weeks’ events together, she wondered if maybe it was something beyond that.

“Speaking of Leah, why did you two argue the day before Earl died?” Sam asked.

A slight shift in Angelina’s demeanor alerted Jocelyn. The woman tilted her head and twirled her long auburn hair around her forefinger. “We didn’t really argue. It was more like a little disagreement.” Jocelyn could tell there was more to it.

“About what?”

Angelina peered down at her lap. “I hate saying anything bad about a person who isn’t here to defend herself.” Reestablishing eye contact with Sam, she straightened her shoulders. “Leah has always been a little jealous of me. I heard that she said something spiteful to a friend concerning me. I asked her kindly to refrain from talking about me.”

“What did she say?” Sam asked before Jocelyn had a chance to demand that very piece of information. Leah wouldn’t do something like that.

“I’d rather not say.” Angelina looked away.

“I insist,” Sam countered immediately.

The woman huffed. “Well, if you insist. Leah thought I had gained some weight.” Angelina rose and gestured down her body. “Now do I look like I’m an ounce over one hundred three pounds?”

“No.” Sam cleared his throat and jotted something on his pad.

Jocelyn bit back a chuckle at the flustered look on his face and stepped forward. “Do you work out at Clancy’s Gym near the college?”

Angelina peered at her as if she finally realized someone else was in the office with her and Sam. “Why, yes, I do. Every morning before work. Thankfully Paul doesn’t need me here before ten. Do you belong?”

“No, but I’ve been thinking about joining. I’m not very big on exercising.”

The woman’s gaze skimmed down Jocelyn. “I see. You should. Our bodies are our temples. We have to take care of them.”

Jocelyn gritted her teeth, trying to think of something polite to say after the woman’s distinct look of disdain. “Maybe I’ll see you there sometime,” she finally muttered, relieved to see Sam slipping his pad back into his pocket.

“Thanks, Miss Loring, for your cooperation. Good day.” Sam waited for Jocelyn to exit first, then he followed her out onto the sidewalk along Main Street.

His soft laugh floated to Jocelyn, who halted a few feet from the front door. She spun around. “Don’t you say a word.” He knew how she felt about exercising, as often he’d tried to get her to jog with him in New Orleans.

“Sorry.” He sobered. “What kind of impression did you have of Angelina?”

“She’s lying, but you didn’t need me to tell you that.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty obvious. Although her weight is a subject I’m sure she cares about, that wasn’t what she and Leah disagreed over.”

“Which makes me wonder what she’s hiding. It’s certainly not her figure. She’s very proud of that.”

“I may have to pay Miss Loring another visit later. By the way, I thought the Farleys’ only connection to the Pershing family was that they rented from them. She said Earl worked for them.”

“That must have been before I came back to Loomis. Leah never said a word about that to me. It has to be several years ago because he ran the pawnshop for at least two and a half years.”

“So you don’t know anything about him possibly taking money from the family?”

“No, although I did know Earl and Leah were having money problems.”

“It’s probably nothing but I’ll see what the sheriff has to say about that.” Sam indicated his car parked nearby. “Next stop is Pershing Real Estate to have a word with Georgia Duffy.”

Jocelyn glanced over the top of the black sedan at Sam. A movement across the street caught her attention. A short, thin man with tufts of red hair sticking out wildly stood with his face pressed up against the large front window of Farley’s Pawn Shop.

“Who’s that?” Sam asked, tossing his head toward the man.

“Chuck Peters. He has the reputation of being the town drunk,” Jocelyn whispered.”

The small man shot a glance toward them, then scurried around the corner as though a hive of angry bees were after him.

“What does he have to do with the Farleys?”

“Noth—” Jocelyn peered over to where Chuck had been, then turned back to Sam. “Come to think of it, maybe he doesn’t know that Leah’s missing. She always used to give him some food when he came by. If Earl saw him, he would run him off, calling Chuck the town’s disgrace. I actually saw Earl kick the man once when he didn’t move fast enough.”

“Homeless?”

“No, he does odd jobs for Vera Peel for room and board, but he only works enough to feed his drinking habit.”

“He has red hair, long enough to fit what was found at the crime scene.”

“Well, yes, but he’s harmless. He’s all over the place, but most have learned to ignore him. I don’t think half the town even sees the man anymore. Leah was one of the few people who was nice to him.”

“But Earl wasn’t.” Sam raked his fingers through his hair. “He might be another one worth looking into.”

“Chuck? I can’t imagine his hands being steady enough to shoot anyone.”

“Still, we can’t ignore anyone, especially a red-haired man connected to the Farleys, until we rule that out as a clue.”

Jocelyn climbed into his car at the same time Sam did. “You didn’t say much about Vera Peel. What did you think about her?”

“Not very friendly or interested in helping the Farleys.”

“That about sums her up. Leah told me once that the woman didn’t care for either one of the feuding families, which is unusual in Loomis because most take one side or the other. Charla has openly snubbed Vera, and there have been rumors for years that Amelia Pershing Gilmore ran off with Vera’s husband. According to Leah, Vera was never the same after that.”

“Betrayal can do that to people.” A shadow flitted across his features and his eyes darkened.

A strained quiet fell between them as he drove the short distance to their next destination. Had Sam been betrayed? Was that why he avoided any relationship that got too serious? Was that why, from the very beginning, she’d felt a connection to him? Jocelyn wished she could ask him, but the wall between them stayed firmly in place. At least that was safer for her heart. She couldn’t go through what happened in New Orleans again.

“Interestingly, she goes to church every week like clockwork,” she said to break the silence. “I just don’t think she listens to what the preacher is saying.”

“That’s sad. The Lord has been the only thing that has kept me going at times.” Sam parked in front of the real estate office.

“I always wondered how you managed to do your job and not seem affected by what you saw.” She hadn’t learned to master that.

His eyebrows shot upward. “Not affected? Whatever made you think that?”

“In the year we worked together, I never saw you get upset or angry except for that one case at the end.”

“We all have a breaking point.”

“Was that yours? Why that case over the others? You’d dealt with child abductions before.”

Sam didn’t reply, just shoved his door open. “We need to get moving. We still have Shelby Mason to interview after Georgia Duffy.”

Obviously, Sam wasn’t going to open up any more now than he had in their shared past. The wall between them remained firmly in place. “Interviewing Shelby is a waste of time. She and Leah are best friends. They have been for many years.”

“That doesn’t mean she isn’t capable of doing harm to Earl at least. It doesn’t sound like Earl was a good husband to Leah. That could make a best friend angry. People have been murdered for less.”

She paused at the front of his car. “I’m surprised you have a strong faith in the Lord. You have such a jaded outlook on life.”

“Believing in Jesus doesn’t mean I should be unrealistic. My job requires me to look at every situation from a different perspective than most. I have to suspect everyone and everything until I can rule them out. You can’t tell me you haven’t been affected by your job and your consultations with law enforcement agencies. Isn’t that the reason you left New Orleans?”

Yes, but an equally important reason was you. She might have been able to weather the last case and the aftermath if he’d been there for her. “My faith isn’t strong like yours. I have a hard time understanding how God can allow such bad things to happen to children. They’re innocent.” Jocelyn marched toward the building. Their conversation was heading into an area she wanted to avoid.

“The Lord never guaranteed us an easy life. But he has guaranteed us His love and faithfulness through the trials we face.” Sam reached around Jocelyn and opened the door.

In her head she knew that, but in her heart she’d lost that belief each time she’d dealt with someone mistreating a child or with her own personal losses. “That’s Georgia behind the last desk,” she whispered, glad there were people around, something to distract them from the subject of faith.

When they approached her, the tall woman with shoulder-length, fiery red hair offered Sam her hand. “You must be the FBI agent from New Orleans.” When his forehead furrowed, she continued, “You’re the talk of the town, sugah. Everyone who’s come in here today has been discussing you and the fact that the first person you visited was Jocelyn.” The Realtor’s gaze skipped to Jocelyn for a brief moment before returning to Sam, a smile lighting her moss-green eyes. “How can I help you?”

“I understand that you were helping Leah Farley look for a house.” Sam sat in a chair that Georgia indicated.

“Yes, but what’s that got to do with her running away from Loomis?”

“So you think she left on her own?”

Jocelyn sat next to Sam, but it seemed as far as Georgia was concerned she might as well not have been there. The woman focused totally on Sam, even to the point of scooting her chair behind the desk closer to him.

“She was certainly distraught after Earl’s suicide, so yes, I think she did.” Georgia crossed her long legs, her action meant to draw Sam’s attention.

“Earl didn’t commit suicide. The evidence points toward murder.” His gaze didn’t stray from the Realtor’s face.

Georgia arranged her features in an appropriate expression of shock, but Jocelyn noticed how quickly it faded as the woman said, “I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me. A lot of people didn’t like the man. Even Leah wasn’t too happy with him lately.”

“Were you one of those people?”

“Oh, no, sugah. The Farleys were clients. I’ve learned not to bite the hand that feeds me.”

“How about flirting with the hand that feeds you?”

This time genuine surprise flashed into Georgia’s expression. “How did you—” Her regard sharpened on Jocelyn. “Never mind. I know how. What’s your role in the investigation?”

“I’m a consultant.” Jocelyn lifted her chin and returned her gaze. “Sam and I worked together in New Orleans.”

“Interesting.” The Realtor’s pinpoint stare drilled into Jocelyn for a moment longer.

She refused to let Georgia intimidate her with that haughty look she often wore when she was dealing with someone she thought was beneath her.

Finally the Realtor swung her attention back to Sam. “There was nothing, I repeat nothing, between me and Earl. Other than being clients, I wouldn’t be involved in either Leah or Earl’s life. We don’t move in the same circles, so you were misinformed. Probably someone confused being merely friendly with flirting.”

Jocelyn balled her hand in her lap, her teeth digging into her lower lip. Hanging all over Earl wasn’t being merely friendly.

“So Leah didn’t fire you as her Realtor?” Sam scribbled a few words on the pad he always carried with him.

“Well, of course not, sugah.” Georgia giggled. “I’m the best Realtor in the area. I even have some listings along this side of Lake Pontchartrain.”

“Thanks for the information.” Sam rose.

Outside on the sidewalk Jocelyn stopped his progress toward his car. “She’s lying. I was there when Leah called her last week and told her she no longer wanted her services.”

“And yet, she felt compelled to lie to us. I wonder why.”

“I’d say because she had something to hide, but then with Georgia, appearance is everything. Maybe she didn’t want people knowing Leah fired her and the reason why.”

“As she said, interesting.” He started for his black sedan again. “One more to go unless you have thought of anyone else who has red hair.”

“There is another person. I almost forgot about him. Bartholomew Hansen and Earl nearly got into a fistfight a month ago.”

“Over what?”

“I don’t know. I was attending the lighting of the Christmas tree in the town square. They were off to the side speaking in low tones, then suddenly Bartholomew took a swing at him. Earl danced back, laughing at the man. Bartholomew came at him, but Max Pershing stepped in front of them. Earl was furious at Max for interfering, and Bartholomew slunk away, but the look on his face was chilling. He has red hair that he wears rather long because he’s going bald.”

“Loomis is a regular Peyton Place.”

“There are good people here. Leah is one of them.”

“Good people do get in over their heads sometimes. I’ll add Bartholomew Hansen to my list to interview later.”

Luke Dupree sat on the couch in Jocelyn’s office, hands folded in his lap, his chin resting on his chest. “Nuthin’s wrong.”

“Your dad thinks there is. He told me you’re yelling at everyone in the family, that you almost hit your little sister.” Jocelyn was pretty certain she knew what was wrong, but she wasn’t sure the child really did. The anger stage of grief could take a long time to get through.

The twelve-year-old shrugged. “She’s a dork and a baby. Always whining.”

“Is that why you like to stay in your room?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Another shrug accompanied his mumbled words.

“How’s school going?”

Luke twisted his hands together. “Okay, I guess.”

Not according to his father. Luke’s grades had plummeted in the past few months, but until lately the anger hadn’t been present. His mother had died from an aneurysm almost a year ago. That was when everything in the child’s life began to change, and Mr. Dupree didn’t know what to do with his oldest son.

“I’d like to see you on Wednesdays after school.”

Luke yanked his head up. “What for? Nuthin’s wrong.”

“We’re just going to talk.”

“I have nuthin’ to say. I wanna be left alone.”

“I’ll see you next week at this time, and if all you want to do is sit there, fine. But I’m a good listener, and what you say in here stays in here.”

“Can I go now?” Glaring at her, Luke jerked to his feet.

“Sure.”

The boy flew across the office and thrust the door open. He stormed past his dad in the reception area and disappeared outside. The look of despair on Mr. Dupree’s face was one Jocelyn had seen many times before in other parents. He’d tried everything and didn’t know what to do next.

“Did he tell you what’s going on?” Mr. Dupree said in a thick, Southern drawl.

Jocelyn nodded toward the door that had slammed shut a few seconds before. “He’s not happy to be here.”

“Can you help Luke?”

“I believe so. Grief comes out in different ways.”

“But he was fine right after his mom’s death. He went on with his life as if nothing had happened. I thought that strange at the time, especially since he was close to his mom, but I was so glad he wasn’t going through what I was.”

“He managed to suppress it, but no one can do that forever. Grief comes out eventually. Ignoring a problem doesn’t mean it will disappear.” She knew better than anyone that it didn’t; she should take her own advice.

“He’ll be here next week after school.”

“He’ll probably give you a hard time about coming.”

“I figured that.” Determination firmed the man’s features into a grimace. “But he’ll be here. Thank you, Dr. Gold.”

As Luke’s father left, the phone in her inner office rang. Jocelyn hurried to answer it.

“Dr. Gold speaking.”

“Jocelyn, this is Sam,” she barely heard through the poor connection.

Children crying sounded in the background. The urgency in his voice sent a bolt of alarm through her. “What’s happened?”

“Someone tried to kidnap Sarah Farley at the Loomis Preschool. I need you.”